My family vacation this summer took us through the winding streets of Eze, loud rues of Paris, rich avenues of Monaco, rustic neighborhoods of Corsica, and so much more. The history of France prevails everywhere, as does its beauty. Yet in the middle of our stay, tragedy struck on the Promenade des Anglais in Nice.
Two weeks before the attack, my hometown choir touched down at the Nice Airport after twenty-three hours of travel. Exhausted, we hit the streets and were awakened by its charm and culture. We were told of Nice’s unique history, and how it’s brief time under Italian rule long ago left an imprint upon the architecture still remaining there today.
We peered into a Baroque church, wound through the outdoor market, and walked across the Promenade and stuck our feet in the warm, salty sea. At the end of the day, we returned to a meet-up spot at the park and watched wet little kids pop bubbles in their bathing suits, without a care in the world.
France was still under alert after the attacks in Paris last November, and so here and there, in the most touristy spots, we saw a few armed soldiers. While this was a bit alarming, we realized that they were there to protect us. And besides that, after a major attack, countries are on such a level of high alert that they are more safe than they were before.
Two weeks later, my family and I were on a boat in Sardinia. Swimming, exploring, eating (too much) gelato, completely relaxed. Then we heard the devastating news of the attack on the Promenade.
Fast forward another two weeks, a few days before our flight home out of Nice Airport. Although we were staying about an hour away between Cannes and Antibes, my younger sisters convinced me to take the train to Nice for the day. I worry about any and everything under the sun, so going back into this city just two weeks after a terrorist attack definitely made me uneasy, but I agreed to go.
Upon arrival, it looked the same. Walking through the streets and the park, everything was just as I remembered. We climbed up the steps of Castle Hill, and the entire city looked just as it had before… beautiful. Back down on the beach, people basked in the sun and splashed in the waves just the same. But the next night, when we returned for our last dinner before the trip home, I noticed a small sign at a restaurant that read “Pray for Nice,” just a small reminder of the much bigger horror left in the recent memories of the city’s inhabitants. After dinner, we decided to take a stroll along the Promenade and found the memorials.
Thousands of handmade signs and letters, lit and unlit candles, artwork, and stuffed animals lined the sidewalk and across the street under a gazebo. A girl walked by, probably only about thirteen, sobbing as she placed a teddy bear on the ground. A grown man bent down to light a candle, crying as his friend stood behind him in support. Looking at everything around me, it was difficult to stop my eyes from tearing up. There are no words to describe how I felt in that moment.
But as I continued to look at the notes, I noticed how many mentioned love, peace, and hope. There was sidewalk chalk art that spelled out in massive letters “COURAGE.” Just two weeks after enduring the worst of things, the city insisted on its strength through compassion. The atmosphere was beautiful and heartbreaking, all in one.
For some horrible reason, terror attacks have seemed to increase lately. Maybe they’re not… maybe I’m just old enough to comprehend or maybe it’s just where American media grants more attention. For me, this attack felt more real than some of the others after having just visited Nice and returned all within a month. I’m not sure when or where or if another awful event like this will happen again, but I’ve now seen that even after loss, tragedy, and heartbreak, people are strong. Strong enough to unite in the name of love, peace, hope, and compassion, while mourning their victims. Although I am still struck by the events of Nice, I have faith that people can overcome the worst of times. After a month abroad seeing famous sites and cities, this feeling will stay with me longer than any other memory of my trip.
